Sleeping in the Blade
by NazgulQueen525
Summary: The "Queen of the Nine" has awoken and is seeking her revenge on the heir of Eowyn. Isolde willingly steps into her mother's shoes, but at what cost?
1. The Coming of a Hero

_**Prologue: The Coming of a Hero**_

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**Not many years after the destruction of the one ring, Faramir and Eowyn had a child together. She was named Isolde and was betrothed to Eldarion, son of King Ellesar and Lady Arwen. Only two years later, Eowyn was to have another child. But this time the child was not meant to live, and his mother soon followed him in death. But this is not the story of Eowyn. This is Isolde's story; the story of a young woman, seeking a life outside of the walls of Gondor; A life, of adventure.**


	2. Sparring with the Prince

"Eldarion please, if you aren't going to really try to fight me, then let one of the guards give it a go," Isolde declared, a mildly bored look on her face.

"I think you've frightened them all away Isolde. You must have battled each one of them by this point. It's almost a rite of passage for them. Besides, Have you ever thought that maybe you're just too good a swordsman for me, that maybe I just can't beat you?" He replied, feigning exhaustion.

"Well, I've thought of it once or twice, but then I remember that you have elven blood in you, never mind the fact that you've obtained the skills of the best swordsman I know," She shot back, her emerald eyes giving him a hard, yet slightly hurt look. As she turned away from her long time friend, he noticed the way her long blonde hair wisped about in the cool breeze, the sunlight catching it in just a way that revealed the reddish hue that she received from her father's side. He ran at her, weapon raised above his head. She whirled about in the nick of time and connected her blade with his, a devilish grin on her face. They fought for a short while before he backed her against the stone wall of the courtyard. With her sword-wielding arm pinned against her chest and his face a mere few inches away from hers he smirked, "Was that challenge enough for you, or shall we continue?"

"If you keep giving me the option, you'll be sparring me all day," She whispered softly, searching his pale grey eyes with her own.

"Then I'm afraid I must be off. Besides, your father did want you back before sunset, didn't he?" He said, gazing at the sinking sun. "I think he mentioned there being an early birthday present in store for you. After all, it's not every day a lady turns eighteen," He said smiling. He loosened his grip on her wrist and stepped back.

"Farewell then Eldarion. May the kings of old ever bless you," She jested, bending into a grand curtsey. He chuckled and returned with a mocked bow before kissing her hand lightly.


	3. The Meeting

Isolde, having changed out of her sparring equipment and into a more suitable gown, started wandering the halls of Gondor in search of her father. She found him leaving his chambers and kissed his cheek in greeting. Faramir smiled cordially.

"I was just going to send someone to find you. I'm glad you showed up. Just in time really, I wanted to show you something."

"Yes, Eldarion reminded me that I was to meet you. Where are we going?" Isolde asked, gazing curiously at her father's secretive grin.

"We are going to the great hall. King Ellesar has sent news of some old friends that have traveled far. I would like you to meet them…I think you will be pleasantly surprised," He replied, leading her through the long corridors. As they entered though a side door to the great hall, she saw the familiar faces of the king and queen of Gondor, as well as their son. They sat around the large stone fireplace. Four more tall cushioned chairs faced away from Isolde and Faramir. She assumed that two were for herself and her father, the other two for the mystery guests, although she could see no one. She greeted the royal family with the customary curtsey before turning to sit.

She gasped in surprise as she saw for the first time that the two extra chairs were indeed occupied with two small men. They both had a pint of ale that looked too large for them in their hands and matching grins. Curly hair covered both their heads and their rather large feet. It took her a second to realize that they were in fact, hobbits.

"I beg your pardon sirs. I did not see you," She said quickly, her hands covering her heart.

"We beg _your_ pardon milady," one replied nodding respectfully, "for not making ourselves known. I am Meriadoc Brandybuck, but you may call me Merry. And this is Peregrin Took," he said, motioning to the other, "though, we call him Pippin."

"Then you must be the two that my father and King Ellesar told me stories about. It is truly a pleasure to meet you. I simply must hear about all your great tales," She replied excitedly as she knelt before them in anticipation. Faramir and Ellesar chuckled.

"Perhaps after a decent nights rest Isolde," Faramir said gently, "They have been traveling for a while and are probably quite tired," He placed a hand on her shoulder and she blushed. Embarrassed, she gave the two hobbits a sheepish smile.

"But of course. My apologies," Isolde replied. She stood and seated herself besides her father. A few servants brought them all food and drink. As they ate and made small talk, Isolde stared into the fire, trying to remember all the stories of her parents and King Ellesar and their adventures with the Shire folk. She never noticed all the inquisitive glances she received from the rest of the group. A short while later she excused herself and went to her chambers.


	4. The Rise of the Glorious Doom

A few months had passed since the arrival of Merry and Pippin, when news of a new threat arrived from the East. A strange power had awakened from its slumber. She was known as the "Queen of the Nine", referring of course to the nine ringwraiths that once plagued and haunted the land of Gondor. Isolde had only heard stories of the Nazgûl, and could only imagine what was coming. "Aglaramarth", as the new witch was also known as, gathered more and more evil forces as she made her way toward Gondor. King Ellesar took no time in calling for the aid of Rohan to meet the heinous troops head-on. Isolde knew this was her chance to show her father, Eldarion, and all others that she had the strength to fight alongside those she loved.

The night before the army left for battle, she went to her father's chambers. She found him sitting in a large chair, gazing into the fireplace in front of him, his hand rubbing his temple slowly as his elbow rested on the arm of the chair. Though his calm eyes reflected the red glow of the smoldering embers, Isolde couldn't get past the look of fatigue on his face. It added years to his face, and Isolde hated to see it. She knew he had spent the last week working very late into the nights pouring over old maps with King Ellesar; planning attacks, and making note of the evil that seemed to come from all sides. She knew that he hated the fact that he could never fight alongside his comrade; that he had to be the one to stay behind to ensure there be a leader for the kingdom, least the King and his son should fall and she also knew that what she was about to say could only make his condition worse, but she couldn't wait any longer. She knelt before him and he looked up, smiling weakly.

"Father, I love you dearly and you know I would never do anything to hurt you. You do know this, don't you?" She said clasping his hand in her own and searching his eyes for an answer. He nodded lightly.

"And you know that I have been training for hours on end almost every day for the chance to prove it to you…" Isolde shifted her weight nervously and stared at the floor. Faramir frowned at her solemn state and tilted her chin up with his finger.

"Isolde, what troubles you?" Concern veiled his face as observed her growing distress. After a moment, Isolde broke down.

"I want to fight," She uttered. "I know I can do it…I just wanted your blessing is all," Faramir's eyes widened in shock. And it was only a second before she heard his barely audible whisper.

"No," He stood and paced the room. His words came quick and sharp. "No, Isolde, You can't ask that of me. You are the only family I have. I couldn't bear to lose you. You aren't ready for battle."

"But I _am _ready father. You know this. You've seen me fight. I can do it. I just need this chance," She pleaded. Faramir stopped and stared at her. He murmured lightly.

"You are so much like your mother," That was the last straw for Isolde. She stood and shouted at him.

"That's all I ever hear from people! I'm forever stuck in the shadow of a stranger! How am I ever to prove myself to anyone if I don't get the chance?" These words stung Faramir, as he knew all too well what it was like to be stuck in the shadow of another. Still, his protective instincts took over.

"That's enough, Isolde. It's done. You aren't going," His words were firm. Isolde ran out, not wanting him to see the tears that she was blinking back. That night, they both cried themselves to sleep.


	5. Into the Woods

**Hey guys, So I know the first few chapters were kinda boring. I apologise for that. It was kind of my way of explaining the situation. I will work on keeping the chapters more fast-paced. Hope you like it!**

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Isolde rested by the white tree of Gondor, overlooking the vast land below. It was early in the morning and a harsh, cold wind whipped her hair into her face. It had been five days since the soldiers of Gondor and Rohan left for battle, and with them, her best friend. She thought back to the day they left, how she had helped him bridle his horse.

"I wish I could go with you," She murmured, stroking the horse's mane lightly. He mounted the dark brown stallion and tenderly caught her hand in his mid-stroke. She looked up to him, noticing how much stronger he looked in his armor.

"I take a great deal of comfort in knowing that you are safe here. I would never want you in harm's way," he gently replied, leaning down to look her more clearly in the eyes. Isolde smiled lightly, knowing that every word was true. She reached up and cupped his smooth face in her hands. Her face grew stern.

"You come back to me, okay? No excuses," He turned his head in towards her palm. He reached up and interlaced his gloved fingers with hers.

"You're right. No excuses," He kissed the top of each hand. The horns of Gondor blasted and Isolde watched as Eldarion took up his place beside his father. Their matching steeds stamped the ground impatiently. She watched as all the soldiers assembled. She watched as they marched off, Faramir at her side, a light hand on her shoulder. She didn't stop watching until the last of the soldiers was finally out of sight.

So there she stood, in the same place she had been 5 days earlier, wishing more than anything that they would return. As the restless winds brushed her dress at her ankles, so too did Isolde grow uneasy. In a sudden, impulsive act, she ran down to the stables and readied a horse. She burst out the stable on a white mare in full gallop, nearly knocking down a nearby horse-keeper. She continued running the horse as fast as she could go until they were deep into the nearest forest. There she stopped the horse by a creek, allowing it to drink before continuing along an old path for some time.

She stopped short when they came across a peculiar sight. In front of her were several dead animals. It was as though all the creatures of the forest in that particular area had suddenly lost the will to live and fell from the trees or the sky. Though, stranger yet, none showed any sign of decay. Though her horse grew anxious and backpedaled, Isolde was curious and led it onward. As she continued, the trees themselves seemed to whither. Isolde's horse gave a nervous whinny and pulled on the reins. Isolde sighed, knowing the mare would go no further. She tied the horse to a tree and continued on foot. She didn't get far before gasping in surprise as she saw the figure of a man lying on the forest floor. She ran to him, recognizing him immediately as one of the local hunters. His face had a look of horror on it. Isolde, finally recognizing the true danger of the place, decided she had had enough adventure for one day and turned to leave.

She ran to her horse and started untying it. As she mounted her horse, a sudden burst of wind whipped the leaves off the tress and whirled them all around. Through the chaos she saw another rider a short distance away. Isolde observed the womanly figure cloaked in black, matching the horse she rode upon. The woman had long straight black hair that covered her face. On her forehead rested a black crown that appeared to be made out of volcanic rock. Set inside it were blood red jewels. The figure raised her pale hand, and the wind died down. Before she lowered it, Isolde noticed a ring that rested on one of her long, boney fingers. It matched her crown, set with its own jewel. The figure slowly raised her head. For the first time, Isolde could look upon the face of the stranger. The face was long and thin, almost skeletal, and the figure's eyes were completely black. Her lips were blood red and drawn into an eerie smile. Isolde grew mildly sick, but simply couldn't look away. She couldn't decide if the woman was old or young, as her face seemed to change ever so slightly when she moved. Finally, Isolde spoke.

"Who are you? Do you know what has happened here?" The figure tilted her head slightly and though her lips never moved, a sharp, hissing voice invaded Isolde's mind.

"I am a stranger and these woods have encountered a dark magic," it replied. Isolde didn't like that the voice spoke in riddles, but pressed on.

"Are you the cause of this dark magic?" She asked weakly.

"I am," It hissed.

"Why did you come here?"

"I am seeking the one who destroyed my king during my 1,000 year slumber. Though, the forests tell me that she too, perished while I slept," The figure stared at her intently. "And who are you, young one?" Isolde, having grown uncomfortable, decided it would be best if she kept her identity a secret.

"I am Celandine, daughter of Ilberic. He is a carpenter of Gondor." Isolde replied.

"Ignorant child, you think I cannot tell when you are lying? Don't you know power when you see it? I am Aglaramarth, Queen of the Nine!" The figure suddenly smiled, exposing her sharp teeth through bloodied gums. "And you are Isolde, heir of Eowyn, and therefore, my prey," At this, Isolde kicked her horse and fled from the sorceress. The terrible wind picked up again and they sky darkened. Isolde's head flew left and right wildly, looking for her attacker. Rain pelted Isolde and the unforgiving wind blinded her as the witch conjured up a heavy storm. Isolde knew her only hope was to keep running.


	6. Isolde's Absence

Back in Gondor, Faramir was surprised to hear the horns of Gondor announcing the return of the armies. He wasn't expecting them back so soon. He greeted the tired king warmly, but Ellesar's face was grim.

"Ellesar, what happened?" Faramir prodded. The king shook his head, a look of disbelief on it.

"Faramir, the enemy troops were a distraction, a decoy. The witch was nowhere to be seen. I just don't understand…" Just then Eldarion, having just shed his armor, ran up the steps, searching for Isolde.

"Lord Faramir, have you seen-," he started, but was interrupted by the opening of the door. Merry ran in, Pippin on his heels.

"Excuse us my lords, but Lady Isolde has gone missing. A stable boy reported her riding off into the woods this morning but she hasn't been seen since," He said, panting lightly. "I wouldn't have been worried, except when I looked to the forest, something seemed wrong. A great many dark clouds have formed there and I fear there is some sort of evil at work," All three men ran to look outside. Their eyes did not deceive them. Faramir turned to the door, but Ellesar caught hold of him with a strong hand.

"No Faramir. If my suspicions are correct, then you would be in just as much danger as Isolde is. Let Eldarion and I go," Faramir jerked away, and forgetting formalities for a moment, actually used the king's birth name.

"Aragorn, she is my daughter. I _must _go!" He turned again, and again Ellesar stopped him.

"I love her as if she was my own Faramir. Never question that. But I need you here. We _will_ find her," Ellesar said, staring him down. Faramir finally gazed at the floor.

"You have never failed me before," he muttered. He sank into a nearby chair, rubbing his temple before looking up. "Bring her back, Aragorn," He pleaded.

"You know I will," he whispered, crouching beside him. He stood and nodded to his son who ran to the stables. The two rode their horses hard and fast into the forest, unaware of what they would find.


	7. The River's Edge

Back in the forest, Isolde's panicked horse carried her as fast as it could from the impending evil. Isolde looked to her right to see the witch riding not far behind and closing the gap between them. When the witch was merely a few feet away, she stretched her arm out to snatch Isolde off of her horse. Isolde jerked her horse sharply to the left, escaping Aglaramarth's grasp in the nick of time. In her frustration, the dark queen let out a piercing screech. Isolde shouted in fear and buried her head into the mare's back. When she looked back, the sorceress was gone. She kept the horse at its pace; she wasn't taking any chances.

I while later her horse halted and reared up. This caught Isolde by surprise and she fell. She saw that they had come up to the same creek, but that the rain had caused it to swell into a wide and roaring river. Isolde stood to control the raging horse, but as it stamped the muddy riverbank repeatedly, the loose soil beneath it gave way. She watched in horror as the horse let out a screaming neigh and was swept away by the strong current.

"No!" She cried out. But the faithful horse was gone. Just then she saw two riders on the opposite side of the river. At first she shrieked and turned to run but then she heard a familiar voice call out to her.

"Isolde!" Eldarion yelled. She turned and recognized him. He saw her face was wild with fear and that she was stranded. He called out to her again. "There is a tree that has fallen across the river not far from here!" He motioned upstream. "Can you walk?" She nodded and scrambled up along the riverbank. He and his father watched her as they traveled in the same direction. As she neared it, a sharp shriek filled the air. The two men watched helplessly as a rider on a black horse appeared out of nowhere, advancing on Isolde. The woman stared at them and bared her teeth before looking back to her target. Eldarion unsheathed his sword.

"No! Leave her be!" he shouted. She laughed and disappeared. She reappeared in front of them, blocking them from the fallen tree. Their horses reared in terror. It was Ellesar's turn to draw his sword. Aglaramarth's voice penetrated their thoughts.

"Fools! Why should you get in between me and my foe? I am avenging the death of my kin and I will not be stopped by mere humans," She turned her horse towards Isolde. Eldarion and Ellesar moved in. She turned and snarled viciously.

"You shall not touch her," Ellesar said, his voice strong. Aglaramarth unveiled and wielded her own sword and turned back to the king.

"I wouldn't be so sure," She hissed. Another broken smile stretched across her face. "It has been 1,000 years since I have had the privilege of battle. It is only fitting that the first blood I spill should be a king's," She raised her weapon and advanced on the two men. The queen was clever though and immediately stabbed Eldarion's horse between the plates of armor covering it. The horse fell dead, pinning Eldarion's leg beneath it. Ellesar was quicker and swiftly guided his horse from the witch's sword. Aglaramarth slashed at the king relentlessly, eventually knocking him off his horse. She dismounted and, before he had even gotten the chance to stand, slammed him unto a tree, rendering him unconscious. She held his limp form up to her face and stared into it intently.

"You are weak, Ellesar King," she cooed mockingly. "Far too tired from your recent return from battle, no? You are not ready for me, not yet. Therefore, I shall wait. Can't have everyone believing I killed you when you were already vulnerable. Besides," She said, looking back at Isolde, "You are merely distracting me from my current task. We shall battle again when you are worthy of my time," she whispered, stroking his hair. "In the meantime…," she pressed her long nail to the king's neck and slid it across, drawing a thin line of blood, "Must keep my promises," She sneered. She dropped the king's form carelessly, turning to the other two. Isolde, who was halfway across the tree, froze in place. Aglaramarth walked past the still struggling Eldarion and up to the riverbank. She smiled wickedly and took a few steps onto the tree. Isolde, having nothing to defend herself with, scrambled backwards. The queen easily grabbed Isolde's wrist and yanked her to her feet.

"Now you will pay for your mother's crime. Blood for blood. And when I'm finished with you, I will pick off all those you love," She held Isolde at arm's length, leaning her over the raging waters below. The queen, wanting to have a bit of fun with her victim before her demise, tightened her grip on Isolde's wrist. Isolde screamed as her bones were crushed. Eldarion called out to her helplessly. The witch turned to him and smiled again. There was a sickening pop and Isolde gasped in pain. The queen let go and Isolde disappeared beneath the water. Eldarion screamed again. The queen laughed and then vanished.


	8. Finding Isolde

Aragorn woke to his son's frustrated groans. He blinked wildly, still slightly disorientated. When the world around him came into focus he could see that the storm was gone and that it was night. The only sounds were the light winds in the trees, his son's cursing, and the babbling river, as that too had calmed from the lack of rain. Ellesar slowing rose from the ground, leaning against a tree for support. After steadying himself, he kneeled besides Eldarion.

"Father!" Eldarion gasped, as he had not noticed his waking. "Father, are you alright?" His concerned eyes traveled to the cut on his father's neck. Ellesar's eyes followed his son's and he instinctively brought his hand to the wound. He was surprised by it, but knew it was not fatal.

"I'm fine. What about you?"

"I'm alright. I just need to get this damn horse off my leg!" He grunted. Suddenly his face grew dark and worried. He clutched his father's shoulder and stared up at his face. "Isolde…," he murmured. He looked toward the river. Ellesar touched his son's face and their eyes met. In the same way he had told Faramir, he replied.

"We _will _find her, Eldarion," Eldarion nodded at this and turned his attention to the horse on his leg. The two struggled with the corpse and a short while later Eldarion was able to free his leg. The two set off downstream. Eldarion rode Ellesar's horse, as his ankle had been badly sprained in the fall. They kept quiet, unsure as to if the witch would return, but their eyes were ever vigilant.

Isolde woke from a nightmare. She had dreamed of the queen's evil smile and that she had been drowning in a river of blood. She had been gasping for air and was without the use of one of her arms. In her dream she managed to grab the root of a tree that was by the water's edge. Isolde opened her eyes now and saw that she had in fact grabbed a root and had somehow managed to drag herself mostly out of the water before passing out. She looked up to the star-filled sky in a daze. She tried to turn over, but cried out in pain. This seemed to sharpen her senses a bit and she looked to the arm that dangled uselessly besides her. A light breeze picked up and she shuddered, wincing at the movement. Her wet clothes clung to her skin and her hair stuck to her face in places. Isolde had finally sensed that she was truly alone now. Defeated, she allowed the exhaustion that had been creeping towards her like a thick fog, engulf her.

Just as she fell back into a world of darkness, Ellesar's ranger eyes picked up on her limp form. He waded through the now gentle river to her. At first her pale face caused him to fear the worst, but she trembled at his touch and he sighed in relief. He gently pried her hand from the root, and as tenderly as he could, carried her back to his son. The two found a place to camp and while Ellesar gathered firewood, Eldarion warmed her with his body. He gently brushed the hair from her eyes, longing for her to open them.

Isolde woke to the smell of fire and cooked meat, and the gentle song on the lips of Ellesar. She opened her eyes to find her head resting on Eldarion's shoulder and a blanket draped over her. Ellesar stopped singing and looked at her. She smiled weakly. She held her stomach, as the smell of the meat suddenly made her sick. After a couple of deep breaths, the feeling passed. She noticed that Eldarion was fast asleep against the tree. She went to raise her good hand to rub her eyes, only to find it in Eldarion's. The movement startled him and his grip tightened a bit, but relaxed as he woke up and saw that she was awake. She looked to her bad arm and found it in a makeshift sling. It seemed to have been set back into its socket, and she was grateful for not having been awake when they did it. Ellesar, sensing her thoughts, leaned over and examined her wrist gingerly. She winced and he looked up.

"We were able to fix your shoulder, but your wrist will have to wait until we return to Gondor," He said grimly. She nodded and Eldarion, seemingly disturbed, looked away. She glanced up at him curiously. Her wrist didn't look that bad and she knew he had seen many ghastly battle wounds in his time, so she didn't understand what bothered him. She let it go, deciding he would tell her when he was ready.

Eldarion had been thinking of how they set her shoulder. He was still haunted by her moans of pain. His father made him pin down her legs with his knee and her good arm with his hands. Ellesar had positioned her head on his lap and gently cut off the sleeve of her dress with his knife. He took hold of her mangled shoulder and in one swift movement, set it back in place. Isolde had begun to thrash about and let out a muffled cry. Eldarion had grimaced and shut his eyes while Ellesar fashioned her sleeve into a sling. Eldarion looked at his friend now and, seeing that she was falling back asleep on his shoulder, kissed the top of her head lightly and rested his cheek on it, willing himself to sleep. Ellesar kept watch, the embers from his pipe reflecting in his eyes.


	9. A Time of Healing

The next morning, the three Gondorians headed back home. Ellesar lead the horse while the other two rode. Along the way, Isolde noticed that Eldarion kept one arm wound tightly around her waist, as though he was afraid she should fall. Normally, this would bother her, as she would see it as a lack of faith in her riding abilities, but she leaned into him a bit, deciding she didn't really mind that much. None of them talked for the majority of the trip. They were all too tired and lost in their thoughts. Isolde did break the silence at one point.

"I never did thank you," she said. Ellesar turned to her. He nodded and there seemed to be an understanding between them. That was the end of it. As they reached the end of the forest and stepped into the field, the Gondorian lookout spotted them. The horns sounded and a short while later a couple guards rode out to meet them, bringing along an extra horse for their king. When they reached the stables, they found Faramir waiting for them. After helping her dismount, Faramir embraced her tightly. Isolde cringed a bit as she was reminded of her injury, but returned the warm hug.

Isolde was brought to her chambers, where her wrist was treated. Eldarion, Ellesar and Faramir sat outside of her chambers, trying to ignore her muted screams. A while later, Lady Arwen and two other healers allowed Faramir to see her. Faramir was greatly distraught to find that despite her change of clothes and recently washed hair, Isolde still looked sickly and dispiriting. Her face was pale and covered with sweat. Behind her faint smile, there was a troubled grimace. Faramir took her good hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. She returned the gesture before falling asleep. The herbs the healers had given her were taking affect, and while he wished she would speak, he was grateful for her comfort. He gazed at her other arm, following the trails of bandages that were wrapped around her waist and over her wrist, covering the wooden splint and binding it to her midsection, just beneath her chest. Faramir began to realize what others soon would. Her damaged arm was the very same she wielded swords with. She would never be able to fight as well as she used to again.

Over the next couple of days, Isolde was back on her feet and wandering the halls and courtyards again. She had started wearing a light cloak to cover her wound, as if to protect it from the prying eyes and gossiping lips of servants. As she rested beneath a tree in one of the gardens to read a book, Merry and Pippin walked up.

"Milady, may we join you?" said Pippin. Isolde looked up to his tentative yet sincere smile. She saw no pity in either of their faces. And she was grateful, for she had grown tired of all the sympathetic stares she had been receiving.

"Of course," she said pleasantly as they sat. "Come to tell me more stories?"

"Actually," Pippin started, "We came to check up on you. You haven't been quite yourself since…," he said, his eyes downcast.

"What he is trying to say is," Merry interrupted, "we just want you to know that you shouldn't be ashamed of your injury. Rather, you should be proud of it. Not many escape the Nazgûl; _especially_ when they are targeted and completely unarmed. Believe me; I know what they are like. I was there when the Witch-king was destroyed. I was there with-,"

"My mother," Isolde whispered.

"Yes," he said softly. She saw his face fall as he thought of her. She smiled softly and turned to him.

"Tell me the story," she said. He looked up in surprise.

"Pardon my forwardness, but haven't you heard this story 100 times? I wouldn't want to bore you,"

"I can stand to hear it again. Tell me the story. Please," She pleaded, placing her hand on his. Merry smiled and Pippin got ready to take a nap.

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**Sorry guys, I know this chapter was a bit slow. But I promise that more action is not far behind. I just wanted to take this time to thank those that have been reviewing my story. This is my first fanfiction and I love getting feedback. For the rest, I would love to hear your thoughts on the story. Thanks again!**


	10. The Council's Decision

**Hello again! So I know I said there would be more action coming your way, and I promise there is. I did have a bit of a harder time with this chapter and it has actually changed the story a bit. Meaning, there is a new chapter that I hadn't planned on coming up next. Unfortunately this new chapter will have to wait a few days, as I will be on an adventure of my own. Your patience will pay off. Fun Fact: The image featured for this story is actually my own drawing that I did many months ago. I was depicting a character I had the pleasure of playing on the stage, which ended up being Death, in a mildly seductive form (no, I did not have a scythe). It just so happens that I did have the honor of dressing a lot like a ringwraith, hooded cloak and all. I might put up a picture of the real thing, but we shall see (privacy issues, yunno?). Anyway, on with the story!**

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That evening, Isolde was called into the Throne Room. When she entered, she found King Ellesar, Lady Arwen, her father, Eldarion, her Uncle Eomer, Merry, Pippin, and a few unfamiliar faces all talking quietly. They stopped and looked up at her as she peeked through the doorway. She let go of the breath she didn't realize she had been holding, and stepped inside. Every eye was on her as she sat beside her father. Eldarion gave her a quick, reassuring smile, before looking back to the king. Ellesar stood and began to speak.

"Friends, we have come here to answer the threat of a new evil. As you all know, Aglaramarth has woken and is avenging her kind," Isolde squirmed in her chair at the sound of the witch's name. Faramir took notice and eyed her carefully. Ellesar continued.

"We also know that she has been striking ever nearer to Gondor and its surrounding kingdoms. It would appear that we have the upper-hand, as most dark forces of middle earth were wiped out with the destruction of the one ring, but the Queen of the Nine is not to be underestimated. She has been gathering the many thousands of goblins from the mines of the Misty Mountains, as well as whatever other evils she has found along the way," He gestured to Isolde with one hand. "Would you please recount your incident to the council?" She gave a nervous nod and he sat. When she finished, there was a silence. Isolde glanced at the many faces, unsure of their thoughts, before speaking up again.

"She seems to have a great deal of pride. That's the only reason the three of us escaped with our lives. I _know_ she could have killed us with her power alone if she wanted to," Isolde stated confidently. She waited to see if anyone understood where she was going with her explanation. When she saw that they didn't, she continued. "But she didn't. She wants us to be ready for her when we battle, meaning-,"

"She wants us to make the first move." Eldarion stated, enlightened.

"Precisely," Isolde said. She leaned back in her chair, quite pleased with herself. Pippin gave her an impressed look.

"Well that's good then, isn't it?" Merry asked. "That gives us time to prepare ourselves for the attack," Faramir shook his head, frowning.

"While it may keep her at bay, she won't hold out forever. She will keep picking away at our borders; testing us, until we are backed into a corner. We _must _strike soon," he said. The others nodded in agreement. Ellesar leaned back in his seat.

"We shall attack in a fortnight. Gather your armies and prepare for battle." He stood and the others followed in suit. They bowed as he took Lady Arwen's arm. Isolde could only stare at her arm in disbelief, thinking to herself how it would never heal in time. She looked up King Ellesar as he passed, not realizing she had forgotten to stand. The king paused and made eye contact with her. He looked down at her arm before continuing on and she understood: he _meant_ for her to stay behind. As soon as the heavy doors closed behind them, Isolde ran from the room. Faramir called after her before deciding she was better off having some time to herself.

Eldarion found her in one of the courtyards, viciously attacking a tree with her sword. Her strikes, while quick, were ungainly and inaccurate, as she was using her other hand. Her furious grumbles and curses only got louder and more pointed as she chipped away more and more of the bark. Eldarion, while keeping a safe distance, tried to lighten the mood.

"You know," he started, "I'm not quite sure how my father will feel about your methods of pruning," Isolde, whirled around, surprised. She had not heard him come up behind her. He held his hands up innocently and she turned back to the tree.

"It's all he deserves, pulling a move like that," she muttered, swinging at the tree again. "He _knows_ I could fight, if given the chance," She paused a bit, panting lightly, and a matter-of-fact look came upon her face. "But if he won't let me have time to heal, I'll just have to strengthen my other arm," She raised the sword over her head, but before she could strike, Eldarion spoke.

"Isolde," he said softly.

"What!" She shouted, turning again. He took a step closer.

"At least swing at something that can fight back," He replied, unsheathing his own sword. She nodded and advanced on him. He blocked every frustrated blow easily, not bothering to fight back. He listened patiently to every curse she directed towards his father, and to Aglaramarth, and even to him. And when she had finally used up her last ounce of energy, he sat beside her, up against the cool, stone wall. Isolde cast her eyes down, ashamed of herself. They sat there a while, watching the sun fall slowly in the sky. Eldarion played with her fingers and finally spoke.

"He isn't just doing it for your safety, you know," He said, looking at her. She returned his gaze. "He knows it would just kill your father if you were to be hurt again," Isolde smirked at this and he gave her a funny look.

"Whether I mean for it to or not, danger seems to find me anyway," she muttered. She looked down at her wrist and her eyebrows furrowed.

"It's bothering you again, huh?" Eldarion murmured, touching it lightly.

"It's just a dull ache. It's nothing really," She replied, brushing his hand away lightly.

"Oh no," He said, scolding her. "You're going to go march down to the healers right now to get more of those herbs," he continued, helping her up.

"But they're bitter," She whined, giving him a tragic look. They both exchanged a quick smile and he walked her to the nearest door.


	11. The Visitor

**The adventure continues! So as promised, this is the unanticipated chapter I was telling you about. I'm sorry it is so terribly short. It's all I've had time to type up so far, but fear not! More is to come. Not quite sure yet how I'm going to get past the next chapter but I shall give it my best. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this bit! I love your feedback so please don't be afraid to shoot me a response!**

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A fortnight came and went. On the eve of battle, Isolde tossed and turned in her bed, unable to sleep. She rolled on her side, facing the window and froze as she saw a dark mist creep under the glass doors that led to her balcony. Her eyes grew wide with fear as the fog rose and took the shape of a woman. Isolde suddenly found herself unable to move, as her body steadily stiffened, until at last, all she could do was stare at the figure in front of her. The woman stepped silently closer and crouched before Isolde, as though inspecting her. Isolde could smell blood on the breath of the figure as she began to speak.

"So…," she hissed, "The rumors are true. You _did_ survive," Isolde whimpered lightly at the all too familiar voice of Aglaramarth. The witch smiled at her terrified sound and stroked her hair with a single, cold finger. "Fear not child. I am actually rather pleased that you still live. It really wasn't a fair fight last time," she said innocently. The witch smiled again and grabbed the back of Isolde's head, pulling her closer, so that their cheeks touched. Whispering menacingly in her ear, she continued. "But I won't make the same mistake twice, you can be sure of that," She let Isolde's head drop back onto the pillow.

Following Isolde's eyes, Aglaramarth's gaze traveled down to Isolde's injured arm. She frowned and cocked her head to one side. "Well that just won't do," she muttered. She grasped Isolde's wrist with one hand and ripped off the splint and bandages with the other. Isolde let out a pained gasp. The witch gave her an irritated look. "That's nothing compared to what's about to happen," she sneered. A concentrated look came over Aglaramarth's face as her eyes locked onto Isolde's wrist. A faint red glow that came from within the palm of the queen's hand pulsed its way to her fingertips. She hissed and grimaced as the light entered Isolde's wrist. Isolde's back arched ever so slightly and big tears rolled down her blank face. Isolde felt a fire working its way through her broken bones, melting them together, like a sword being forged in the bladesmith's furnace. At last, the scorching pain faded away, leaving only a dull throb. The queen stood again, breathing heavily.

"There. Now you can fight me evenhandedly. My conscience is clean," She muttered coolly. "You should get some rest. You will need it come tomorrow," The queen stretched her hand out and motioned it across Isolde's face. Isolde's eyes shut in a deep sleep, and her body was freed of its invisible bonds. The queen leaned in one last time.

"I will see you again, little warrior. And this time, you will not escape the bitter hand of death," She smiled frigidly and disappeared into the night.


	12. Three Wise Men

The next morning, as the sun filtered in through Isolde's windows, she woke slowly. Her head hurt, having been filled with inescapable nightmares of fire and blood. Isolde's eyes suddenly flew open as she sat upright, grabbing her formerly wounded wrist. Her chest heaved as she thought back to that night. She stared at her bare wrist in disbelief. She carefully bent it and gasped at the lack of pain. Her eyes slowly fell to the ripped bandages and broken splint on the floor. Just as she started coming to terms with the events from the previous night, someone knocked at the door. Isolde scrambled to find the extra roll of dressings the nursemaid had left in her room to cover her wrist.

"Just a moment!" She protested, attempting to disguise the panic in her voice. She dug through her drawers hastily, finally finding the roll. The knocking started up again.

"Isolde?" A soft voice called out. She recognized it as her father's. "Isolde, may I come in?" he called again. She rewrapped her wrist, tearing the soft fabric with her teeth. Throwing the roll back into the drawer, she slammed it shut.

"Yes father, just a-," But before she could finish, he stepped in. They both hesitated a moment; Faramir unsure of how to begin; Isolde just trying to slow her pounding heart. Faramir finally took another step closer, shutting the door behind him. Isolde smiled lightly, trying to hide her unease.

"What did you want to talk about?" She asked timidly, knowing all too well the answer.

"I want to talk about you," He said, sinking into a nearby chair. Isolde's cast her eyes down before locking them onto the forgotten dressings and splintered wood. She sat on the bed, hiding the evidence behind her nightgown. Faramir leaned forward in his seat and continued.

"I know I have been busy with King Ellesar these past couple of weeks, and that I haven't paid you much mind. I abandoned you when you needed me most and I am so sorry. You are probably worried sick for Eldarion and King Ellesar…and for me. And you have every right to be. I just want you to know that whatever happens, none of this was your fault," Isolde looked at the floor, conflicted. Faramir got up and crossed the room. Isolde nudged the suspicious scraps of cloth and wood underneath her bed with one foot as her father knelt in front of her. He tilted her face up with a finger. Looking her in the eye, he grasped her unwrapped hand in both of his.

"Isolde," He murmured. "King Ellesar and Eldarion will fight today, not just to protect their kingdom, but to protect _us_, as their kin and dearest friends. They will fight to the death for you, and if it should come to that, so will I. Know this, and do not be ashamed that you cannot fight alongside them. We all know that you would," After staring at her saddened face for a moment, he kissed the hand enclosed in his and left the room. As the door closed, Isolde turned her head to look at it over her shoulder. Her eyes were filled with tears and she let out a barely audible whisper.

"You're right father. I will,"

Isolde kept unusually quiet all throughout her morning meal and secluded herself from the crowds of people who had gathered to bid their loved ones farewell as they readied themselves for battle. Most believed it was out of grief, both for the family that were leaving her, and for herself, unable to go with them. Only her Uncle Eomer seemed to suspect otherwise. He eyed Isolde carefully as she embraced Eldarion tightly. He saddled his horse nonchalantly not far away, glancing up at them every so often. When Eldarion left, he approached her.

"Isolde," He called out firmly. Isolde turned to him cautiously, tensing at the seriousness in his voice.

"Yes?" She replied nervously. He stepped toward her.

"What is bothering you?" He replied, locking his eyes to hers. Her face grew confused and worried.

"War," She said, the answer seeming obvious to her. When he didn't respond, she started to feel ill under his intense stare. She continued, casting her eyes down. "War troubles all, especially those who must watch their kin leave with the possibility that they might not return alive," Her uncle placed a strong hand on her shoulder and she met his gaze.

"You're hiding something from me. Your mother always had the same look about her that you do now when she was keeping secrets. I don't ask that you tell me, only that you do not let it interfere with this war," He hugged her and whispered into her ear. "Don't follow us Isolde. All you will find out there is pain and death," Although Isolde couldn't see it; she felt his eyes move towards her covered wrist. He pulled away, holding her at arm's length. "You deserve better than that," he murmured. He turned and mounted his horse, walking it over to King Ellesar. The horns of Gondor, Rohan, and other kingdoms blasted and Isolde took up her place by her father. Just as before, they watched as thousands of men poured out of the gates, their armor gleaming in the morning sun. Faramir led her inside with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Isolde was silent for the rest of the day. She sat out in the courtyard, wishing the sun would set. When evening finally came, Isolde retired early. In her chambers, she began to pack a bag. She snuck out to the stables and saddled a horse. She was ready to leave when she realized she had almost forgotten to bring food. She muttered to herself about what an imbecile she was and crept up to the kitchen. As she stole a few apples, the door suddenly opened, spilling light onto her clocked form. In her shock she dropped an apple. She grimaced as it rolled to two pairs of unusually large, hairy feet. Pippin picked up the apple and stared at her in surprise. Merry pushed him into the room and shut the door behind them quickly.

"Milady," he said softly, "I wouldn't think you would need a traveling cloak to grab a late bite to eat," Isolde looked down, a guilty look on her face. She lifted back the hood to her cloak.

"You're right," she said. "That's not what I'm here for," She slumped over to a nearby chair. They pulled up a couple more and sat across from her.

"If you're anything like your mother, then I think I know what you're doing," he said. "But I think it's crazy that you would go in the state you're in," He motioned to her wrist. She let out a nervous laugh and they both gave her a confused look.

"It's funny you mention that," she muttered, starting to unwrap her wrist. They watched, shocked as she began to roll her wrist around.

"Impossible," Pippin whispered.

"So it would seem," she replied, "And yet…," Merry took the hand of Isolde's healed arm into his own, looking up at her gravely.

"Do you have any idea what this will do to your father, should you fall?" he said.

"I _know_ the consequences of war, Merry. I have accepted them long ago," she muttered, withdrawing her hand.

"And what of Eldarion? And Eomer? King Ellesar? Have you thought of how they would feel?" he whispered anxiously. Isolde stood, glaring at Merry.

"How do you think I've felt, watching them leave, never knowing if they would come back time and time again? I know this agony all too well! And before you start to patronize me, think back to your own life! You once felt the very same way, wanting more than anything to fight; to help your friends in their time of need," Isolde quieted, looking away. "It's _my_ turn Merry," She whispered. Pippin looked to Merry, who had begun to nod his head. Merry glanced back at Pippin, and then to Isolde.

"We will help you,"


	13. Merin's Sacrifice

Isolde left under the veil of night. She had almost been caught a few times, but Merry and Pippin were able to distract any guards that crossed her path. As Isolde came to the edge of the forest, she turned back one last time to gaze upon her home. A few tears escaped her eyes, but thoughts of her father pushed her onward.

She kept to the forest, running her horse most of the night, only stopping when she saw the lights of the armies' camps. She rested for a few hours, keeping her horse and herself, well out of sight. When morning came, Isolde unpacked her stuff, and dressed herself in armor. She rubbed some dirt onto her face, before hiding the rest of it under her helmet. She reached for the sword that Merry had packed and stopped short when she recognized the hilt. She remembered gazing at it many times from where it had hung in her father's chambers. It once belonged to her mother. She looked at the recently sharpened blade and, looking up, thought up a silent blessing for Merry before tying it around her waist. When she decided she looked enough like a man, she mounted her horse, waiting. When the horns finally blasted, and soldiers started to assemble, she snuck out of the woods and lined herself up besides a nervous looking soldier. She recognized him as one she had sparred with many times. His name was Merin. He coughed nervously.

"Is this your first battle?" She asked quietly, deepening her voice.

"As a matter of fact, it is," He replied, looking straight ahead. "And it's an honor to be fighting it alongside you milady," he whispered, glancing at her sword. Isolde looked up, shocked. He gave her a reassuring smile and pressed a gloved finger to his lips, letting her know he would not turn her in. She returned the smile and faced forward. Her heart caught in her chest a bit when she saw a dark cloud of goblins moving steadily towards them. King Ellesar began to shout a rousing speech, though Isolde heard very little of it. She was too busy listening to the shrieks of the goblins and staring at their gnashing teeth and dark eyes. She only felt her eyes drawn back to Ellesar when he ran his horse past and glanced in her direction. She looked down, hiding her fearful expression. He passed quickly and as Isolde looked up again, she caught sight of Eldarion. She suddenly thought of how this might be her last chance to speak with him, and as much as she wanted to ride alongside him, she resisted. The sudden shouts of her comrades snapped her out of her trancelike state and she kicked her horse into action. The battle had begun.

Isolde found herself surrounded by goblins. Their ugly faces sneered up at her as she kicked at them and trampled them under the strong legs of her horse. She quickly found her courage and cut the head off of another. A short while later she was thrown from her horse as one of the goblins attacked it. Isolde fought mercilessly, hacking at any foe she came up against. She only paused when a piercing shriek tore through the air. Isolde yelled in pain, covering her ears with her hands, looking skyward. She saw a grotesque, dragon-like creature land amidst the battle, not far from where she was. On top of the beast was Aglaramarth. Isolde ran toward the queen and her winged monster, shoving aside any goblin that got in her way. As she neared the clearing made by the creature, she saw at once what had caught the witch's eye. Eldarion and King Ellesar fought nearby. Isolde sprang into action, stabbing her blade deep into the side of the monster. It let out a horrific roar and with a swipe of its tail, flung Isolde to the ground, knocking her helmet off. Isolde laid there, stunned by the blow. When she came to her senses, she saw that the queen and her beast were now facing her and that her sword was out of reach.

"Well, well, well," The queen said, smiling mockingly, "It appears that my little warrior has come to fight. I'm so proud," Her creature let out a snarl and stepped forward. "I was afraid you weren't going to make it, what with your father and the rest of the world against it. Glad to see it all worked out. I am _so_ eager to hear your screams of pain," The creature took another step and Isolde scrambled toward her sword. Suddenly, another soldier stepped in between the two. Isolde recognized his voice immediately.

"I won't let you harm her!" He shouted.

"Out of my way, you pathetic boy!" The queen scowled, a disgusted look on her face. When he stood his ground, she let out a command in a dark tongue that Isolde couldn't understand. The monster beneath the witch lurched forward, snapping its jaws at the young soldier. He dived out of the way and stabbed the beast at the base of its neck repeatedly. The monster roared again before finally falling dead. The queen slid off the lifeless creature and looked sharply at the young man. Cursing him in the foulest language of middle-earth she raised her arm up and twisted her clawed fingers. The soldier's neck snapped viciously.

"Merin!" Isolde screamed, watching in horror as his limp body fell to the ground. She looked up at the queen, who smiled wickedly.

"Stupid boy," she muttered, turning her back on his body. Isolde glared at the witch, a new feeling of hatred boiling inside of her. She picked up her mother's sword and slowly advanced on Aglaramarth.

At the same time, Faramir, who had been knocking on Isolde's chamber door for some time, let himself in. He looked around, shocked to find it empty. His eyes were drawn to some light strips of cloth sticking out from beneath her bed. As both Isolde's steps and Faramir's heart quickened, Isolde's arms raised the sword above her head; Faramir, the broken splint and ripped bandages to his chest. As he let out a horrified sob, she let out a furious scream. At the last second, the queen turned, connecting her blade with Isolde's. The queen smiled and murmured,

"So it begins,"

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**Almost there everyone! Just stick with it. The chapter that I've been itching to write for some time now is coming up next!** **Let me know what you think so far.**


	14. The Final Battle

Isolde, fueled by her anger, attacked the witch ruthlessly, noticing for the first time the shiny black armor that she wore. Aglaramarth only smiled, blocking every blow with the greatest of ease. Isolde, realizing her attempts were futile, stepped back a bit. She thought back to the wisdom of King Ellesar; back to when she was just a child and she and Eldarion would fight him with wooden swords in the woods. _A calm mind makes for a steady hand _he had told them. Isolde closed her eyes for a moment, blocking out the cries of battle. She took a couple deep breaths. When she opened them again, she found the queen standing a couple of meters away, looking at her curiously. Isolde glanced at the blood-stained sword in her hands, feeling a sort of comfort from it, as though its previous owner was standing there, guiding her along. The queen grew impatient.

"Pick up your weapon!" she spat. Isolde did just that, and the queen stepped forward. Their movements became almost dance-like, as they spun and ducked beyond the reach of each other's blades. Isolde slowly found herself growing more and more exhausted, not yet used to such heavy armor. The queen noticed this and laughed, shoving Isolde to the ground. Aglaramarth towered over Isolde, blade at her chin. It was at that moment that King Ellesar looked to the dead winged beast that was strewn on the battlefield. He saw the witch-queen was distracted and started walking towards her.

"You humans are weak. And you, my dear Isolde, are a fool. How could you think for even a moment that you could destroy me? I am more powerful than you can possibly imagine! Now, do us _both_ a favor and die," The witch raised her sword above her head and Isolde prepared herself for the blow that would end her life.

"Aglaramarth!" Ellesar cried out, still unable to see what held her attention. The queen looked up. Isolde sprang into action, kicking the witch back and springing to her feet. Ellesar, seeing for the first time who it was that Aglaramarth was fighting, broke out into a run. The queen glared at Isolde. She flew at her, throwing blow after blow with her sword, blinded by her fury. Isolde saw her chance, elbowing Aglaramarth in the face. For a fleeting moment, the witch was stunned. In one swift movement, Isolde kicked the sword from her hand, grabbed the queen in what seemed like a one-armed embrace and stabbed her sword up through her middle, right beneath her chest-plate.

There was a pause, and then Aglaramarth let out a shrill wail. All on the battlefield heard it and many fell to their knees, clutching their head. Isolde screamed, clenching her eyes shut in a vain attempt to block out the piercing cry. She felt a slow trickle of blood leak from the ear closest to Aglaramarth's face. Gradually, the witch fell silent. Isolde felt the queen's free arm tighten around her, and as she tried to pull away, a sharp pain flared in her lower back. Ellesar, who was only a few yards away, could only watch in horror as Aglaramarth twisted the dark dagger deeper into Isolde's back before wrenching it out forcefully. As the queen pulled them both to their knees, she grabbed the back of Isolde's head. Their foreheads met and they stared into each other's eyes. The look of shock was still plastered on Isolde's face as she listened to Aglaramarth's final words.

"Blood for blood," she whispered, "Must keep my promises," And with that, the witch-queen slumped to the ground, dead. The goblin army, sensing that they no longer had a leader, turned and fled, leaving only the thousands of men to cheer at the horns sounding their victory. Isolde stood shakily, looking at the world that seemed to spin all around her. She took a couple of steps forward, dragging her sword along the ground. Her vision blurred a bit and she fell backwards in what felt like slow motion. Gentle hands caught her before her head hit the ground and as she opened her eyes, she met the gaze of the king. He cradled her in his arms, brushing her hair out of her face.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry I took matters into my own hands but…I _had_ to do this," Ellesar raised his hand to her lips, silencing her.

"I understand," He replied. He felt Isolde shudder lightly against him. His hand reached instinctively to her wound. She stopped him, catching his hand in her own. She nodded her head, smiling weakly.

"I doubt even your healing hands could fix this now," she murmured. Ellesar watched as her eyes widened, looking right through him. Knowing he had left her sight, he stroked the top of her hand with his thumb, letting her know he was still there.

"What do you see?" he whispered. Isolde's eyes gradually filled with tears, leaving long streaks down her face as they washed away the dirt that was there.

"I see a large room, filled with tall pillars that reach clear to the ceiling…It is so bright. And there is a woman; She is beckoning me towards her," Isolde suddenly smiled gently. "She says she is my mother," Ellesar squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"Go to her Isolde," he whispered. A moment passed and Ellesar felt one last breath leave her before she went still. He sighed sadly and let his fingers slide down the length of her face, gently closing the faded emerald eyes that no longer held life. He tenderly raised her forehead to his lips before laying her gently to the ground

Eldarion, who was not far off, grew uneasy at the sight of many of the soldiers gathering in one area. They had formed a circle and as he approached, he noticed that many had removed their helmets and had their eyes downcast. Fearing for his father, he started pushing through the crowd. They parted for him and he saw to his relief that Ellesar was kneeling on the ground, but seemed unharmed. He then saw the figure lying on the disheveled grass. He cried out to her, falling to his knees, but there was no answer. He held her to his chest, burying his face into her hair and wept openly. Ellesar felt his eyes mist at the sight of his son's anguish. A short while later, a soldier quietly brought a couple of horses over to them. Ellesar placed a comforting hand on Eldarion's shoulder. His son's red-rimmed eyes looked up to him and he nodded sadly.

Slowly, he lifted Isolde's body, cradling her in his arms. With some help, he got on his horse, with Isolde on front of him. Holding her up with one arm across her chest, he began moving his horse slowly through the sea of armor-clad men. Ellesar gently picked up Isolde's sword, and mounting the other horse, rode alongside his son. The soldiers backed away, allowing them to pass. They only stopped once when Eomer approached. Eomer gazed mournfully at his late niece and grasped her cool hand for a moment before letting them continue. As the two reached the edge of the battlefield, they kicked their horses into a gallop. They didn't stop riding until they reached the gates of Gondor.

Faramir, who had been staring wistfully out his balcony, was told of the king and prince's arrival by a guard. Throwing aside the scraps of bandages he had been grasping, he ran out to the citadel. There he saw Ellesar, who had already dismounted his horse, guiding the limp body of Isolde down from Eldarion's. Faramir caught sight of the blood-stained patch of clothing on her back and understood; Isolde was gone. Merry and Pippin burst through the doors, followed quickly my Arwen just as Faramir lifted his child from Ellesar's caring arms and sank to his knees. The three slowly approached as Ellesar placed his consoling hands on Faramir's shoulders. Faramir, who had begun to sob, could only stare longingly at the pale face of his daughter. Pippin thought to himself how many years ago, Faramir himself lay on the same stone-covered ground, mourned by his father. Although, this time, there would be no healing through simple medicine. No, this time all they could give her was a place to sleep eternally.

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**Just one small chapter left guys...**


	15. Be At Peace

The next morning, all those residing in Gondor, as well as some of Rohan's royal guard lined the streets leading to Rath Dínen* and Fen Hollen**. The heavy wooden doors of the white tower of Ecthelion opened. Eight guards carried the body of Isolde on a bier resting on their shoulders. Behind them stood Faramir, followed by the royal families of Gondor and Rohan and two hobbits. As they made their slow procession to the _Hallowes_, the people of Gondor glanced woefully at the woman who would have been their future queen. Many took note of the steel-blue dress she wore, marveling at the beautiful silver embroidery. Others observed the way her long, wavy hair spread over her shoulders like a river of gold, adorned with several simbelmynës; though _all_ noticed the familiar sword that was clasped in her delicate hands. When the procession came to the entrance to the tomb and the bier was lowered, Ellesar let out a low hum, a hum that seemed to be carried on the wind. The drone steadily formed into Elvish words. The translation was as thus:

_White beauty bestows the one _

_with no rose left to her lips._

_A peace comes beyond her brow._

_A shadow falls across the sea as_

_she leaves us waiting on the tide._

_And e'er she bids a soft goodbye._

Slowly, the bier was laid in the tomb. Bit by bit, the people left to move on with their lives, until at last the only ones left were Eldarion and Faramir. As the sun set, rays of light gleamed on the sides of their faces. Both stood there, silent. They listened to the world around them, trying to find the sense of hope they had once clung to, not wanting to accept that it was lying in the tomb before them. As night crept up on them they finally turned back to the city they called home.

It would be many months before Faramir would completely come to terms with Isolde's death. He would sit outside of her tomb for hours every day. But as time passed, the daily visits shortened to once a week, and before long, Faramir would learn to walk past it, occasionally stopping to rest his hand on the smooth stone, if only for a moment. Faramir went on to fulfill his duties as a steward of Gondor and many years later Eldarion became king. Both, in their due time, joined Isolde in death. And both times she was there, waiting in the bright room with the ceiling-high pillars, beckoning them to her. Both times, they took her hand and smiled.

* The _Silent Street_

** The _Closed Door_

* * *

**Alas, we have come to the end of this tale. I know it was a sad ending but in all honesty, it was the one I had planned on from the start. I can only hope you understand and can appreciate the bitter-sweetness of it all. As a side note, some of you may have taken note that a few of the lyrics to the lament for Isolde, are taken from Celtic Woman's "The Soft Goodbye". I did this because I love the song and found it to be fitting for the scene. I in no way am taking credit for the lyrics that come from it. That remain with them. Also on that note, I do not own any of the concepts from the Lord of the Rings. I would like to thank you all for sticking with me (and Isolde) to the very end. And a special thank you to RingsFan, who has been cheering me along since the very beginning. Your support was and still is very much appreciated. In the words of Bilbo Baggins "I regret to announce - this is the end. I am going now. I bid you all a very fond farewell. Goodbye"**


End file.
